


And I'll Be There... to Pick You Up

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epistolary, Gen, Grandmother to Grandon Heart-to-Heart, Past Character Death, Short, Spoilers for S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Giulio, who has longed for the whole of his life to know more about the father he never knew, discovers a treasure, but a letter from the past is not his only portal to another time and place.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	And I'll Be There... to Pick You Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Medici fic, which is both exhilarating and terrifying. I feel entirely inadequate to write anything in-depth for this amazing show at the moment (though I do hope to do so eventually), so I have begun with a short ficlet. I hope you enjoy.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : I own nothing Medici-related, and no copyright infringement is intended.

As he listened to his grand-mama's familiar footsteps getting nearer, Giulio quickly replaced the loose board and shook his head in amazement as he made his way to the doorway. He took a deep breath and glanced down at the yellowed, frayed-at-the-edges scrap of parchment and nearly pinched himself to be sure he was truly awake and not asleep in his bed, dreaming about a moment he had wished for but never thought would come to pass.

“It’s almost time to go, Giulio. Have you seen Piero and Giovanni?” Lucrezia Tornabuoni, the stoic matriarch of the Medici family asked, sounding somewhat exasperated. “Lorenzo is anxious for us to begin our journey back to Florence.” 

“They are with Sandro, Grand-mama,” he answered as he reverently caressed the paper and turned his head towards the open window, where he could hear his cousins’ voices becoming louder as they returned from wherever they had been. Maddalena was laughing. Giulio smiled and wondered, not for the first time, why his grand-mama often overlooked her. 

“Did Sandro not ask if you wanted to go with them?” she asked as she came into view and examined her grandson before walking to the window and looking out at the vast grounds before her, watching her grandchildren and Sandro. She looked contemplative and sad.

Giulio closed his eyes and imagined her in this very spot, many years in the past, looking out the same window as her sons sparred. He could hear them laughing and speaking about their last joust, and he could imagine his father rolling his eyes as he once again found himself on the wrong end of the sword. Giulio could hear the _next time, brother_ , and it made him grin.

Reopening his eyes, Giulio watched his grand-mama and felt an immense wave of grief wash over him. This room had been his father’s before it had been his, and to this day, his grand-mama could often be found in this very spot, looking out with a wistful look on her face.

“Yes, he did ask, but I didn’t want to go. May I ask you a question about my father?” he asked, unable to stop himself. He rarely asked about his father, but she had told him long ago that anytime he had questions he only need ask.

He walked to the window and joined her. It was a fine spring day. He could smell the new blooms and it made him think of his mother. She had so loved this time of year. Giulio wondered if his father had shared their love of the rebirth of life. 

“You know you can, child,” she said reverently, her voice much softer and mournful. “I made a promise to him the day you arrived at our doorstep that I would share as much of him with you as possible.”

Giulio nodded. There was no one he loved more in this world than his grand-mama. His aunt and uncle were wonderful and treated him as if he was one of their own, and his cousins did the same, but he was not their son or brother. He was no one’s son or brother.

But what he was, and most likely would always be, was his grand-mama’s favourite.

Not that he would ever say that to anyone else, but he knew he was and it meant everything to him. He was just Giulio to everyone else, and to many he was merely the bastard son of Giuliano de Medici, but in his grand-mama’s eyes he was her world. That was worth all the salt in existence, and he never took that for granted.

“Do you think my father would be proud of me, Grand-mama?” It was a rather indulgent question, not at all the one he had meant to ask, but he needed to hear the answer all the same. 

“Come, sit,” she said as she made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. Giulio joined her and didn’t try to withdraw his hands when she covered them with her own. Her loving eyes looked into his and he saw nothing but love there. “When your father was born, Lorenzo was so very protective of him. They were only a few years apart in age, but your uncle was always your father’s fiercest protector. Your grandfather was often confined to bed and was unable to help out with your father, but Lorenzo was always there to lend a little hand whenever I needed him. Even then he was taking charge,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I see that he is also protective of you in a way that he is not with his own children. I think he feels a responsibility to your father. We all do, Giulio. My youngest son loved fiercely. He had a passion for life that more matched mine than that of his father’s or brother’s. I very much see him in you. I see that mind of yours constantly working, trying to fathom things out. If your father were here, oh, Giulio, my heart breaks to think of the joy he will never get from being here with you.” She dabbed at her eyes and shook her head as if she hadn’t meant to show such sadness. “Your father is proud of you, Giulio. Have no doubt about that.”

“I’m sorry, Grand-mama. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said sadly as she let out an audible sob.

“No, don’t ever be sorry for that, child,” she said as she looked at her grandson’s hands which hers covered. She didn’t say anything, but smiled as her eyes darted to the space beside the bed where Giulio had found the parchment. Had she known that was where her son had hid things? Probably not; she would have recovered any items within long ago had she known, but she had to have seen that he was holding something, and she was sharp, had always been. Giulio had never been able to hide anything from her. “I’ll leave you to finish gathering your things. Don’t be too long.” She caressed his face and studied it for a few seconds before standing to take her leave. “And Giulio?”

“Yes, grand-mama?”

“Please do not allow anyone to make you feel as if you do not belong. I hear what others say, still, after all these years. I cannot stop them, but I can assure you that to everyone who matters you are as much a Medici as Piero, Giovanni, and Maddalena.”

Giulio did not trust himself to speak but smiled and nodded his thanks for her words. He appreciated that his grand-mama saw through his attempts to cover his anger and hurt. Her words soothed in a way that nothing else had ever been able to. She cared. They all did, but she most of all. Sometimes it seemed as if she cared too much, such as when she took his sword away from him after he had gotten into an unfortunate fight, but as upset as he had been as he’d handed over the weapon, he’d known that she was looking out for him. She always was and would as long as she breathed, and it made him love her all the more. 

When he heard her descending the stairs, Giulio slowly unfolded the parchment and stared at the now familiar handwriting of his father. He had quickly read over it earlier but now took his time as he studied each word before him.

_Today’s assignment from Master Ficino is to write a letter to someone in the future. Lorenzo, of course, began writing immediately; he will have a small book to show for his efforts tomorrow. Me? I have no idea what to write. I have been sitting here for the past two hours, attempting to come up with something that will not sound trivial, but what can I possibly write that will rival my brother’s eloquent offerings?_

_Someone is coming. I best go see who it is._

_I have returned. When in doubt, mothers are often a good source. Not that I would have asked, but as she inevitably does, she knew there was something troubling me. When I told her my dilemma she was a wealth of ideas. Thank you, Mother._

_Dear My Future Son,_

_I should probably begin by thanking your mother because imagining me as someone’s father is a scary thought. However, I assume that at some point, even I will decide it time to settle down. Or else, my father will have decided to marry me off to someone’s daughter to strengthen relations. This is how things work, although I will do my best to not be a party to this. I wish to marry for love. Lorenzo, your uncle, tells me I am a dreamer and that this will never happen. He is right, of course. I am aware of our family’s place and know what is expected of me. I guess there are fates far worse. Just today, as I returned from seeing a friend, who if I have my wish, will be your mother, I came across a man who was skin and bones. He begged for money. I gave him what little I had on me but felt as if I should do more. So yes, my son, there are worse things in life than arranged marriages. I hope my wife is a wonderful mother to you and that the two of you are as close as I am to my mother. I cannot imagine life without her._

_And I do hope I am an adequate father. I do tend to dream – everyone says I live in the clouds – but I do want a family and I do want to protect them, so please tell me that both of these things are in my future._

_I wonder what your name will be. If it were up to me I would name you Francesco after someone who should be my brother yet is more enemy than friend now. Why do adults have to be vitriolic and set on hatred? I will never understand this._

_Whatever your name is, I am proud of you. You might wonder how I could know this today, but if you know my mother, which you will, then you need not ask how I could know that I will love you. No son could ever ask for a more wonderful mother, my son. She has taught me everything good in this world._

_I cannot wait to watch you grow up. I cannot wait to joust with you. I cannot wait to ride horses with you. I cannot wait to see what a wonderful man you will become. I cannot wait to hold my grandchildren._

_But most of all, I cannot wait to hold you in my arms as soon as you arrive in this world and tell you that you are the most beautiful, perfect person I have ever beheld and that the world is yours for the asking._

_All my love, your father, Giuliano_

Guilio wiped his eyes. He still found it almost unbelievable that of all the things he had found of his father’s, it was a letter to _him_. And to think it had been so near all these years. That Giulio had just happened to look at the floor earlier and notice a slight discoloration and alignment issue with the boards beside his bed was incredible.

How long had he hoped to have something of his father’s?

At long last, he did and it was almost too good to be true.

But as his grand-mama often reminded him, things had a way of happening when they were most needed.

Giulio had needed this so very much.

Yes, it hurt. Very much. To know that his father had had so many dreams for himself and his son and that none of them had come true. It was a pain that would never leave him. His father and mother were gone and were never coming back.

Piero, Giovanni, and Maddalena had a mother and father. They never had experienced the loneliness of being parentless, and Giulio hoped it would be a very long while before they did. He would never have the blessed assurance that having parents afforded a child, but he now knew without a doubt that his father had loved him, and that was a small measure of warmth that would have to suffice. He had always known his mother loved him, but his father had never known of his existence, therefore, how could he have loved him? 

Guilio folded the parchment, placed it in his cloak pocket, and stood, thanking his father for this gift.

It was time to leave and he was not sure when he would next return to Tuscany, but whenever that was, just maybe there were other treasures beneath the floorboards to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I actually posted this! Please let me know what you think, and if you have not watched this wonderful show called _Medici_ , please do. It is absolutely mesmerizing from beginning to end.


End file.
